Responsibility of the Crown

by G Scott Huggins

  “Well, of course,” said Merav, with the assurance that was beginning to irritate Azriyqam. “Where else would clothing come from?”

  “Ship’s stores,” said Azriyqam. “But that never worked for me.” She looked at herself in the mirror. The only thing the robe really did for her was match her eyes. But the mirror showed her, and Merav too, in all their halfdragon freakishness. “Don’t you ever get tired of being so ugly?” she said, in a rush of emotion. Here, after all, was someone who might understand.

  But Merav looked as though Azriyqam had struck her. “What do you mean, kyria?”

  “Well, look at us,” said Azriyqam, her voice rising. “Wings like bats, useless fingers that grow out as long as we are tall just when we’re about to figure out how to use them in spite of this webbing we have in place of real palms, except for these pincers on the ends that barely function. Scale-patterned skin. It’s no wonder they shut us up in this tower where they don’t have to see us.”

  Merav stared at her, furious. “Well, Princess. If you want a prettier lady-in-waiting, I shall be glad to step aside for her. I am certain the Crown will find humans falling all over themselves to accompany you. Good day.” Then she was gone, her wings folded about her like a flaring cape.

  Azriyqam stood paralyzed, alone in her bathroom. What had she said? Had Merav truly never thought about her own ugliness? Then she remembered the waiting tailor and walked out to the main room.

  A middle-aged woman rose and bowed. “Good morning, kyria,” she said, as if nothing had happened. “I am Guildmaster Sheriam, and I am honored to serve you.”

  Azriyqam jerked out a nod. “What should I do?” The question flowed from her, and it wasn’t one that any tailor could answer. But she asked anyway.

  “Step this way, kyria,” the lady answered, cheerily, “and I shall make you ready for tonight’s banquet.”

  Azriyqam followed her instructions, but she thought, No you won’t. I will never be ready for any of this.

  She had come home, and it was more foreign than her captivity had ever been.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 4

  Azriyqam had never seen a room like the great banquet hall of the Kreyntorm.

  The floor was an enormous mosaic laid out in a riot of colored stone, depicting dragons, ships, maps, heroes, and more figures than her eyes could comprehend. An immense colonnade of marble pillars towered overhead to meet the dark roof, which fell in carven stalactites of obsidian. Set into the volcanic glass were chandeliers of beaten copper and bronze that gave light to the whole room, adding to the illumination of the lightward-facing windows.

  She looked to her left and tightened her finger on Avnai’s hand. He was dressed, not in his Consortium uniform, but as a captain in the Free Navy of Evenmarch.

  If Azriy were not a halfdragon monstrosity, she would have looked almost as elegant. Guildmaster Sheriam had produced a gown that was so light she might have thought she was naked. But she assuredly was not, for the colors of the gown she wore were reminiscent of violet flames shining in the lights. About her neck was a necklace of rubies and pearls the Guildmaster had lent her, saying she would be honored if Azriyqam wore them.

  The long tables were filled with what looked like the entire complement of a Century Ship, and the assembled throng flanked her path to the high table, where Crown Da’vid IV of Evenmarch waited, seated at the head of at least two dozen people dressed richly enough to put the High Captain’s Council aboard Ekkaia to shame.

  Beyond them, on two great platforms overlooking the room, reclined the same blood red dragon she’d seen outside the castle, and a forest green one. Azriyqam swallowed.

  A herald cried out, “The Crown-Heir, His Highness Captain Avnai of the House Royal, and the Lost Princess, Her Highness Azriyqam.”

  The entire company rose. It was all Azriyqam could do not to lean on Avnai’s arm. Her knees kept knocking together, and the carpet beneath their feet seemed to stretch on forever. At last, they reached the high table. Avnai guided her to the place at the Crown’s left, while he sat on the Crown’s right. There was an empty place to Avnai’s right, but to Azriyqam’s left was a woman she could hardly help staring at. Her skin was blue. Deep blue, only it wasn’t skin, it was scales, far more pronounced than Azriyqam’s own. Her eyes were a red only a grade lighter than the rubies Azriyqam wore, and she had no hair, but a ring of fine horns grew in a circle, resembling a natural crown about her forehead. She was not a halfdragon. Azriyqam looked at her fingers, which were exactly like a human’s, except that like Azriyqam’s own, they bore polished claws rather than nails.

  The Crown rose, as did everyone else. Azriyqam shot to her feet.

  “Today,” said the Crown. His voice was trembling, though strong. “Today, our beloved daughter, Azriyqam, is returned to us, and it was done, as her mother foresaw, by the hand of her brother, also feared lost: my son, Avnai. Today, I am the happiest man on the Great Disc of the World, and the proudest.” He lifted a golden goblet. All through the hall, he was copied. Azriyqam cautiously picked up her own. It was full of wine the color of blood. She could smell the rich aroma just by raising it. “To Azriyqam and to Avnai. They are home.”

  Azriyqam heard her name and Avnai’s murmured by all present. With the rest of them, she drank, and dark, rich fire poured down her throat. She managed not to cough.

  They all sat. The Crown turned to her. It was impossible to think of him as her father, but he smiled at her under eyes that sparkled. “I have dreamed of this day for the last nineteen years.” Servants brought bowls of cream soup full of shellfish. “I am glad to see that you are recovered. I am sorry I could not be there when you woke, but much had to be rearranged in the past two days.” He indicated the strange-looking lady of the blue scales. “This is the Dragon Consort Khiirya. She is something of a step-mother to you.”

  The lady nodded regally to Azriyqam. “I am honored to meet you, daughter of Shaaliym. Be welcome in your home.”

  Azriyqam felt her mouth open. No words came, but Khiirya simply smiled at her.

  The Crown indicated a dark-haired boy on the far side of the empty chair. “This is Jo-ad. He is your next-younger half-brother.” Azriyqam stared. Having one human brother had been wonder enough. She had never imagined she might have more. The boy favored her with a correct, but wary, nod.

  The Crown turned to Khiirya’s left and gestured to a woman dressed in what looked like a deep blue uniform with a yellow sash. She looked young but for a few lines in her face, and she’d bound her hair, streaked only a little with gray, in a long and elaborate braid. “Her Excellency the Baroness Celaeno, Ambassador of the Consortium.”

  This lady said, “I am most honored to make your acquaintance, kyria. Allow me to convey the Consortium’s gratification at seeing our ally’s joy at your return. At yours, also, kyrion,” she continued, nodding at Avnai. “I do apologize for being unable to see you until now, but please know the Consortium Navy has been informed of your return. I have, of course, arranged for you to return to your duties when you see fit, but you may consider yourself to have as much leave as you wish until you recover.”

  “Most kind, Your Excellency,” returned Avnai. “Can you please notify Fleet Captain Gaderan aboard Talion as well? I should like to send him a personal message, if you could arrange it.”

  Celaeno hesitated. “I may be able to arrange the message, but Captain Gaderan has been relieved of his command and of duty. After all, it was most embarrassing to the Consortium and the Navy to have lost you.”

  “I see.”

  She returned her attention to Azriyqam and said, “I do hope your homecoming brings you better fortune, Princess. It must have been terrible for you among the barbarians of the Century Ships. We have only ever heard of them, and I would be most honored to entertain you at my embassy if you would do me the courtesy of a visit in the coming weeks. I have so much I would like to ask you.”

  The Crown frowned, and said coldly, “It was not b
ad fortune that caused her to be there, Ambassador. I think the princess will have little time to devote to our allies, seeing as she will have so much to learn about her own people, and that, likewise, is hardly bad fortune.”

  The Ambassador’s face became a composed mask. “Of course.”

  Azriyqam realized this woman represented the people who were responsible for the whole course of her life.

  Conversation stilled for the moment, and the guests turned their attention to the soup. Azriyqam did likewise and saw the maze of dishes and silver spread before her for the first time. There were two plates, three goblets, and a dozen pieces of silver. All were curved in the strange manner of the cutlery Merav had shown her. Azriyqam glanced around. Her table companions were using the spoons with the wide, rounded bowls, not the long spoons with the smaller bowls. She slid it over her forefinger and found that it fit remarkably well.

  The soup was delicious. Hot and creamy, filled with scallops, mussels, and shellfish she had never tasted. It finished with a hint of fire that never overwhelmed. The Crown Consort Khiirya leaned closer to her and murmured, “Do try the white wine with the soup. You’ll find it refreshing, I think.”

  Azriyqam nodded gratefully. Did she mean the yellowish drink in the glass goblet? Azriyqam reached for that, received a smile, and touched it to her lips. The wine was chilled, to her surprise, and cleared away the flavor of the soup with a crisp rush of fruit flavors. She sighed in appreciation. “It’s very good,” she managed.

  Hunger seized her, and she returned her attention to the soup. In no time, she saw the bottom of the bowl. Servants replaced the soup with plates of a small, flat, fish. This at least, would present no problem. She took up a fork and began to eat.

  “Fish fork, dear,” Khiirya said softly. Azriyqam froze. She had picked up the large fork because it looked easier to deal with. Which one was everyone else holding? She noticed, for the first time, that there were other halfdragons here, including a child only half her own age who, apparently, knew which fork to use. Azriyqam replaced her fork with the middle-sized one and continued to eat. The fish was flaky and had a smooth, buttery taste.

  The Crown finished his conversation with the Ambassador, something to do with her last visit home, and turned to Azriyqam. “You’ll meet the rest of the immediate family over breakfast tomorrow, but some of them are too young for a formal dinner. Then, at last, we’ll get a chance to talk as we ought.”

  He’d said the words kindly, but Azriyqam felt her stomach seize up. What would he have to say to her? She had dreamed of meeting her mother all her life. Had imagined running into her arms, or even wings. She’d never really considered a father, before, though she supposed she’d known she must have had one. He frightened her in ways she hadn’t known she could be frightened. Some of it must have leaked through to her face because she saw pain in the Crown’s eyes. “Thank you,” she said. Thanking people was always right.

  The fish was replaced by a plate of thick red meat encrusted with some kind of pepper. Azriyqam just stared. She had never seen anything like this, but everyone else at the table was cutting into theirs with every evidence of enjoyment. Now they were using the big forks, and knives that looked as if they could have been used to fight a duel with.

  She turned to Khiirya. “Please, ah, kyria, what is it?”

  “Prime rib roast,” the dragon answered. She saw the look on Azriyqam’s face. “Is something wrong?”

  “It’s…” Azriyqam swallowed. “It’s bleeding,” she whispered.

  Khiirya chuckled, not unkindly. “No, it’s just the natural color of the meat. I assure you.” She cut a bite and ate it.

  Azriyqam tried to emulate her dinner companions, but the meat slid around her plate so much that she nearly toppled her wine glasses. She managed a bite, and it exploded on her tongue with dark flavors, but then she saw the Ambassador watching her with an amused smile. It was not kind. Azriyqam laid her fork down and looked away.

  Soon enough, the red meat was succeeded by a plate of rice overlain with slices of a paler, brown meat, arranged, thankfully, in slices with a sort of glaze. This she could eat with little difficulty. It was sweet and spicy at the same time, and Azriyqam found that by alternating bites of this and the dark wine, it was even better than the soup. She began to feel a floating sort of warmth come over her.

  “Princess, this must all be very new to you,” said the Ambassador.

  “It is,” Azriyqam replied. “What is this? It’s delicious.”

  “Honey-and-coffee glazed pheasant crespo,” said Khiirya. “I’m so glad you like it. It’s one of my favorites, too.”

  “Is it very different from life aboard a Century Ship?” asked Celaeno.

  Did the woman know nothing? “Very different,” she eventually answered.

  “We know so little about them. Is it true they are barbarians who do not even know how to read and write?”

  “Of course not. No one would be able to trade on the Endless Ocean without that. How would one reckon bills of lading or chart courses?”

  Avnai must have been thinking the same thing because he looked at Celaeno with narrowed eyes.

  “Did you see them do any of the terrible things we hear rumors of? Piracy of smaller vessels? Burning and looting whole islands?”

  Now Azriyqam’s jaw dropped. “Century Ships aren’t pirates!” she said, automatically. “Only the mutineers of the Near Islands—” she stopped. Everyone who had heard her stared, and she realized that she was insulting her own hosts. No, her own family. She looked down. “The Century Ships do not commit piracy. I have never seen them do such a thing.”

  “Thank you, Princess.”

  “Piracy is an ugly subject for the table,” said the Crown, his face set with anger.

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” said Celaeno, her eyes were alight with amusement.

  Desperate for a change of subject, Azriyqam asked Khiirya, whom she was beginning to like, “Kyria, who are the others seated with us at the table?”

  “Representatives of the other Near Island Navy Kingdoms,” replied the Consort. “Besides we Evenmarchers there are the Tidespinners, the Dawnsails, the Kytherri, and a half-dozen more.”

  So, these were the ambassadors of the dreaded Free Navies. Pirates all, as she had been taught. They did not look fierce and barbaric here at table.

  Green salad, bright with tomatoes and yellow peppers succeeded the game bird. Small chunks of a sweet, white meat were in it as well. There were more fresh vegetables in this room than Cana’s garden would produce in a year. Two years. “You must be very wealthy, kyrion, to be able to serve so much,” she ventured to the Crown. He looked blank. Celaeno’s amusement grew, and the boy—her other brother, she remembered—looked scornful.

  “Well, land is a bit more plentiful on the islands,” Avnai said. “I never realized how much I could miss fresh vegetables until I went to sea myself. It’s a discovery that only travelers can make.”

  “Is someone traveling?” asked Azriyqam. “No one has come to this seat.”

  A silence fell along the table. Avnai said, easily, “It’s my mother’s seat. I’d hoped she would be feeling well enough to come, but she is doubtless indisposed.”

  “Yes,” said the Crown, shortly. “The queen had no stomach for dinner and prays you will all excuse her.”

  “Of course,” murmured Celaeno. “Do convey our regrets, and our hope that she will soon recover.”

  The words had the eerie qualities of a dance, in which the Crown and Celaeno both knew the steps. Why were they doing it? And why was Jo-ad looking at her as if she had said something wrong? Azriyqam gave her attention to the salad, and Avnai struck up a conversation with his father about the hunting on the island. This seemed to lighten the mood, but it was impossible for Azriyqam to follow. Despite skipping the meat course, Azriyqam began to feel full, and was hard pressed to eat the ice that was served as dessert, despite its sweet flavors. Last came an amber liqueur, but Azriyqam put it
down after one sip. It was bitter and burned like fire.

  She suddenly realized how tired she still was. Avnai also pleaded fatigue and escorted her up to her room. On the way up, she asked. “Did I say something wrong? The Crown seemed upset.”

  “Not with you,” Avnai said. “I’ll explain it to you in the morning, I promise.”

  Azriyqam undressed on her bed. She meant to find proper clothing to sleep in, but the softness of the mattress seemed to suck her down and she knew no more.

  * * *

  She woke to find clothing had been laid out for her the night before. After getting dressed, Avnai arrived to escort her to breakfast. Along the way, he kept his promise to her and explained, “My mother, the Queen Mikaela, disapproves of my service with the Consortium,” he told her. “She blames my father for agreeing to it and me for doing it. So, she punishes us by this form of silent and invisible protest to shame us.”

  “Why does she disapprove so?” asked Azriyqam.

  “She believes the Consortium wants me dead and thinks that Father and the Throne are wrong to allow me to take that risk. To bow, as she sees it, to Consortium demands.”

  “Why would the Consortium want you dead?” asked Azriyqam. Avnai led her out to the passage that encircled the tower.

  “Because the Consortium would prefer to have the Evenmarch as a possession rather than as an ally. Anything that would destabilize us—such as the death of one of the heirs apparent—would make that easier.”

  “One of the heirs? Who’s the other?”

  “Well, I’m not Father’s only heir, but I’m the only one who can take the Crown in my own right should he die. Jo-ad is next, and you’ll meet the others this morning. However, I was referring to the Throne’s heir.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting that these names are all so new to you. Have you wondered why Father isn’t called the king, but the Crown?”